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Before
Small Damages and
You Are My Only, there was
Dangerous Neighbors (Egmont), my Centennial Philadelphia story featuring twin sisters, a boy named William, and the fair that ushered in the idea of the modern.
Yesterday, the paperback edition of
Dangerous Neighbors arrived, complete with its fancy discussion/teaching guide. The book will go on sale in a month or so, just ahead of the release of
Dr. Radway's Sarsaparilla Resolvent, the prequel that features 1871 Philadelphia and that animal-rescuing boy named William.
My thanks to Elizabeth Law and the Egmont team.
By:
Beth Kephart ,
on 11/30/2012
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I was so grateful for the opportunity to give the keynote address at the Publishing Perspectives Conference, YA: What's Next, held at the hospitable Scholastic auditorium in New York City this past Wednesday.
Today the fine folks at
Publishing Perspectives share
the text in full, along with the illustrations by William R. Sulit. These illustrations were modeled with 3D software, all with the exception of the beautiful face and hands, which belong to my niece
(daughter of my famous I Triple E brother), Miranda.
In her keynote address from the YA: What’s Next? publishing conference, author Beth Kephart makes an impassioned case for YA books that are heartfelt, authentic and empowering.......(Just added: gratitude for a week of kindness toward Small Damages.)
My thanks to Sarah Laurence for letting me know that
Small Damages (Philomel) was among those titles discussed by Kelly Jensen at The Yalsa Hub, in a story entitled: "The Next Big Thing: Contemporary/Realistic Fiction).
For the whole story, which looks at all the contemporary/realistic books nominated for this year's Best Fiction for Young Adults, go
here.
My cup is overflowing.
On this rainy afternoon, I would like to thank the one and only Ed Goldberg for reading
Flow, my Philadelphia river book, and having so much good to say on his spectacular, shared blog, 2Together. Ed, you are so integral to my writing life. I am blessed by your kindness in so many ways.
Through Twitter, a tool I have yet to master, but a tool through which I have made new friends, I learned of two spectacular new reviews of
Small Damages. One, by the bloggess, Love Is Not a Triangle, made me smile in so many ways, and had me sharing, with the bloggess, my thoughts about the
Small Damages sequel I hope to someday write. The whole is
here.
The second is by the good people of teenreads—or, I should say, by the super duper Terry Miller Shannon of teenreads—who wrote,
among other things, "Characters are so fully realized, they could walk off the page....
Small Damages is on the short side but is nothing short of a glorious triumph for Kephart." Those words will put sun into anybody's rainy day.
Finally, today, I want to thank Susan Barnes, Lauren Marino, and a certain publicist named Beth—all on the Gotham team. I had called Susan with a concern not at all of Gotham's making. She listened and took action at once. With tremendous compassion and care, the team relieved me of a percolating anxiety. They didn't have to do this. Some publishing teams might not have. But Gotham did, and I will always be grateful.
By:
Beth Kephart ,
on 9/13/2012
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For reasons too complex, too personal to render fully here, yesterday was a day of deep emotion.
There were, however, friends all along the way. Elizabeth Mosier, the beauty in the dark gray dress, will always stand, in my mind, on either side of the day—at its beginnings, at its very late-night end. For your mid-day phone kindness, for your breathtaking introduction of me at last night's book launch, for the night on the town, for the talk in the car, for the bounty of your family—Libby, I will always be so grateful.
To Patti Mallet and her friend, Anne, who drove all the way from Ohio to be part of last night's celebration, I will never forget your gesture of great kindness, your love for green things at Chanticleer, and a certain prayer beside my mother's stone. Patti and I are there, above, at the pond which inspired two of my books.
To Pam Sedor, the lovely blonde in violet, a world-class Dragon Boat rower recently returned from an international competition in Hong Kong, the librarian who makes books happen and dreams come true, and to Molly, who puts up with my techno anxieties, and to Radnor Memorial Library, for being my true home—thank you, always.
To my friends who came (from church, from books, from architecture, from corporate life, from the early years through now)—thank you. Among you were Avery Rome, the beautiful red-head who edits Libby, me, and others at the
Philadelphia Inquirer, and Kathy Barham, my brilliant and wholly whole son's high school English teacher, who is also a poet (shown here in green). To the town of Wayne, which received our open-air tears and laughter late into the night (and to Cyndi, Kelly, Libby, Avery, and Kathye who cried and laughed with me)—thank you.
And also, finally, to Heather Mussari—my muse (along with Tamra Tuller) for the Berlin novel, a young lady so wise beyond her years, and a cool, cool chick who (along with Sandy) does my hair—I arrived at 11:15 at your shop inconsolable. You listened. You said all the right things by telling the truth and telling it kindly. I adore you, Heather. I hope you know that.
Tonight I'll officially launch
Small Damages (Philomel) in my
hometown library. I'll be sharing images of the research process, snapshots of Spain, and a glimpse of my Estela's
cortijo kitchen. I'll also be giving those who come this recipe card, featuring one of Estela's favorite easy desserts. Now, Estela is Estela, and pears are pears—so many different textures, so many degrees of firm. You have to mess with temperature and timing, therefore, but if you wait until the pears are truly cooked through, you'll have a sensational little treat on your hands (plumped raisins, Malaga- and orange-flavored pear flesh).
I am looking forward (so much) to this evening. Please come, if you are near:
September 12, 2012
Radnor Memorial Library
114 West Wayne, Avenue
Wayne, PA
SMALL DAMAGES launch party
7:30 PM.
I have written many times on this blog about the exquisite writer and human being, Ruta Sepetys. I am lucky to know her—it's that simple—and the gift of our friendship is a gift that Tamra Tuller, our Philomel editor, gave. Tamra sent Ruta a copy of
Small Damages a long time ago, and Ruta not only lent her voice to this story, but she stayed in touch, sending notes from all around the world as she met with teachers, parents, and children to discuss her international bestseller,
Between Shades of Gray—and, later, to prepare us for the February 2013 release of her absolutely lovely second book,
Out of the Easy.Home for Ruta is states away from here. Life for Ruta is many obligations which she, with all the grace of a true diplomat, seamlessly fulfills. Still, on July 19th, the day
Small Damages was released into the world, Ruta thought to send me a gift.
Enclosed is a little cake, not quite full of taste, but certainly full of love, she wrote.
It had been my son's birthday, and then my husband's. There was endless corporate work to do.
My party for this little book was two months away. But there Ruta was, reminding me to take a moment for this book that had consumed ten years of my life and almost (so many times) vanished. Her cake will always sit among my treasured things, a reminder:
Take a moment.
Today, taking a page from Ruta, I stop to remind us all.
And so I realized that my
Small Damages launch party (at Radnor Memorial Library, this Wednesday night, 7:30) is but a few days away. And so I began to tremble. I hadn't prepared. I hadn't sat down and thought it through. I have nearby friends coming, not to mention a certain Patti Mallett, who is making the journey from quite a long way away. I could not afford to get up there and wing it.
I dedicated this afternoon to making sure that I didn't wing it.
There will, as everybody knows, be cake.
But there will also be a tour of my Estela's kitchen.
Can you guess what this ingredient is?
By:
Beth Kephart ,
on 9/5/2012
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Late yesterday afternoon, I took a quick dance lesson then hurried to the train to see my kid, city side. I have been down there untold times of late—checking out apartments, moving boxes in, arriving, breathless, to help with something, and of course, this young man (
not a kid) needs no help at all. I'm just drumming up excuses to spend an hour here or there with him.
So that I have seen the city under sun and the city swollen with rain, the city just after dawn, the city late at night. And I have felt more energized and alive than I have felt for a long time. Philadelphia does that to me. And so do snatches of conversation with my guy.
This morning a text comes in, six a.m.ish.
I'm working on my story, it said. Because my son shares this with me, this love of words. This pleasure taken in filling the silent hours with vivid fictions. By now, he's off to work, first day. And my happiness for him is giant.
Meanwhile, Ryan Richards of Main Line Media News interviewed me yesterday morning at 8:15 a.m. (not-ish) and, 13 hours later, this
Springsteen-infused story (which is also about the making of
Small Damages for Philomel) had been posted. Tuesday is day-before-pub day there at Main Line Media News and Ryan plays a central role in getting all stories out and prettied up for show. I have no idea, therefore, how he wrote such a nice story in the midst of all that, but I thank him. I hope he got some sleep last night.
Finally, tucked into the day was this formal announcement from Penn about the Homecoming Weekend Panel I'll be sharing with my friends Buzz Bissinger, John Prendergast, and Cynthia Kaplan, as well as James Martin, whom I am eager to meet. Join us if you can.
October 27, 2012/Saturday 4:30 PM - 6:30 PM
Memoir: Methods and Meanings
Kelly Writers House
Arts Cafe
3805 Locust Walk
Join alumni authors at Kelly Writers House as they read from and talk about their work in memoir. Panelists include Pulitzer Prize-winner Buzz Bissinger C'76, whose latest book is Father's Day: A Journey Into the Mind and Heart of My Extraordinary Son; essayist and performer Cynthia Kaplan C'85, whose 'true stories' are collected in Why I'm Like This and Leave the Building Quickly; Beth Kephart C'82, author of multiple memoirs and young-adult novels, and of the forthcoming Handling the Truth; and James Martin W'82, author of In Good Company, which tells the story of his conversion from GE executive to Jesuit priest, and eight other books. Pennsylvania Gazette Editor John Prendergast C'80 will moderate the discussion. Advance registration is not required, but seating is limited. RSVP to [email protected] or call (215) 746-POEM.
So proud and happy today to have
Small Damages selected as the teen book club pick by the esteemed Dear Reader.com for this back to school week.
For more on all the interesting choices and the book club itself, follow this
link.
Thank you, Suzanne, Valerie, and
Dear Reader.com.
Within every story there are stories, and this morning I am deeply blessed by the chance, in
Shelf Awareness, to remember my grandmother and to reflect on the passion I have for creating young adult stories in which time works differently. Jennifer Brown, the children's book review editor for
Shelf Awareness, opened this door to me.
Her kindness toward me and Small Damages has been remarkable.
Pictured above is my beautiful grandmother, whom I lost on Mischief Night when I was nine. She sits beside my grandfather, who holds my brother on his lap. I am sitting with my beloved Uncle Danny. My mother's family. Sweet memories.
Thank you, Jenny Brown and
Shelf Awareness. These are the opening words of my Inklings essay. The rest can be found
here:
My books for young adults are frequently shaped by relationships between those who have so much wanting yet ahead and those looking back, with pain and wonder. Time works differently in books like these, and so does memory.
Twenty by Jenny is home to some of the most thoughtful reviews of books written for children and teens—anywhere. That is because Jenny Brown, its creator, has cared about youth literature for all of her adult life—as a teacher sharing stories, as an editor producing them, and as a critic and enthusiast writing for countless publications, including
Shelf Awareness. Jenny Brown trails golden light.
But I did not know, until late last night, that Jenny Brown, who had written the exquisite
Shelf Awareness review of Small Damages, had also taken the time to reflect on
Small Damages in Twenty by Jenny. Her essay is called
"Regeneration." It is, in every way, stunning. It taught me about my own book, made me step back with new understanding. This kind of reflection is built of love. And I am so grateful, Jenny Brown. I am.
I am so grateful, too, to the ever-vigilant Serena Agusto-Cox, for letting me know.
I have had this image of the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications (Syracuse University) read to rock and roll for Allie Caren, who has been interning at the Philadelphia Daily News this summer, all week long. Allie and I met on a warm day in the new Philadelphia Inquirer building a few weeks ago, and we've enjoyed a correspondence ever since then. Between the time and I met her and the time her
profile of me was published (today), a very big thing has happened to Allie: She's been accepted to S.I. Newhouse, the premier communications school in the country, my son's alma mater, and also the alma mater of my Philomel publicist, Jessica Shoffel. All good things, then, at Newhouse.
Allie, a million thanks for this story—for taking an interest and for telling it so well. And sweeping good luck to you as you now enter the school of your dreams.
Small Damages has been nominated for
YALSA's 2013 Best Fiction for Young Adults, and this makes me so happy. I wish I knew who to thank for this. Someone, out there, has made this happen, and I would thank you, if I could.
So, gracias, whomever you are, and congratulations to my friends who are also on this list. I love being in your community.
This late afternoon I extend my deep gratitude to Renee Fountain, for her thoughtful review of
Small Damages in the
New York Journal of Books.
I am honored to be in those pages. I am grateful to Renee for her understanding of Kenzie and of Kenzie's love for her unborn baby. Perhaps, as I told a friend not long ago, I was aching to write about maternal love when Kenzie stepped into my life. Perhaps I miss those early mothering years. It means so much when a reader makes room for the emotions I had as I wrote.
The review is sub-titled with the words below. The whole can be found
here.
“Realistic . . . rendered in a quiet prose that speaks volumes.”
Thank you, Jess Shoffel, for letting me know.
My friend Ed Goldberg sent me a note yesterday to say that a copy of the August 2012 edition of
BookPage—the real, live
BookPage—had appeared in his own library.
This made me happy indeed, for this issue of that fine magazine includes a conversation I had with the magnificent
Abby Plesser,
"Home is Where the Heart Is." I had received an early PDF copy of the story and had been able to share it on the blog, but I'm thrilled today to share the
live link. Abby and BookPage, I will always be grateful.
I don't know what it is about lately.
Truly.
Ask A.S. King, that famous writer, She. She is the one took the photo here. Snapped it at Chester County Book and Music a few weeks ago, where I had gone to sign
Small Damages, and where A.S. King and K.M. Walton and I practically shut down the little restaurant hours later. Or, at least, we shut down the lunch shift at 5 PM.
Minutes after striking this hot little pose I was informed by a quite polite but anxious management team that this very table had collapsed beneath another's weight, a few signings back. I wanted to ask if the other author had been a former Rockette, just like me, but decided to heed the caution and hopped off, pledging myself to adult behavior.
But here, forever, thanks to A.S. King, is me being me.
I will get back to my regularly scheduled seriousness on the morrow.
Unless another odd photo surfaces.
1) I will get to Body Combat because I have failed to Zumba all week long, because I have eaten too much, because I have been at this desk pounding, pounding, but even my fingers are fatter than they were.
2) I will see beautiful Katherine at her wedding shower, even though I couldn't resist and bought her something not on the shower list. Katherine, I had to, and I hope you love it. (It's just so
you.) I will also see, at this same event, Katherine's beautiful sister, Carolyn, and their mother, Jane, and the next day I will see them all again, at St. John's Presbyterian Church, where we will be honoring Reverend Victor Wilson, standing in our pulpit one last time before retirement. It is a very special weekend. Want to see how special this bride-to-be is? Read her blog
Newlie. Find out how to smash some strawberries.
3) I will be driving, mid-shower, lightning speed but hopefully sans lightning, to Books a Million in Exton, PA, where I'll be hanging out between 1:30 and 3:00, should anyone want to stop by and talk about Spain, weather, paella, mysterious boys, Katherine's shower (just kidding, Katherine!), or a novel titled
Small Damages. The exact address: 298 Exton Square, Exton, PA 19341. Perhaps I'll see some of you there. Laura Schibinger, Books a Million GM, I have one thing to say to you: Dancing will only make it better. That's how dancing works.
By:
Beth Kephart ,
on 7/24/2012
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I wanted to find a pair of cowgirl boots for my friend Caroline Leavitt, to thank her for making room for me on her roost today, but the best I could do was this sign, photographed in Nashville four years ago, which sat (you'll have to believe me) right near a cowboy/cowgirl boot store. Why I didn't think to photograph the boots themselves is beyond me. What is not beyond me, at this moment, is gratitude. For Caroline's friendship. For her own talent. For conversations we have had in public and in private as we both journey through this writing life. I don't even know how Caroline got an early copy of
Small Damages, but she had one. She's in the midst of writing a brand new book, and she made time to read it. Then she asked me excellent questions, the kind of questions one who knows another well can ask.
I answered them all here.Among the things we discussed is how much I love Philomel, and how I made my way to this great place to begin with. I extract a small fraction of our conversation below, but hope you will visit Leavittville for more.
Philomel is exquisite. At Philomel I have a home. There I have never felt like a fringe writer, a secondary writer, a marginal, will-she-please-fit-a-category, we’ll-get-to-you-when-we-get-to-you writer. Michael Green, Philomel’s president, is a most generous person, and correspondent. Tamra—beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, embracing—approached the editing of this book, the design of its cover, and the preparation of it for the world with the greatest care, and in the process we became great friends. Jessica Shoffel, a wildly wonderful and innovative publicist, wrote me a note I’ll never forget after she read the book and her devotion to getting the word out has been unflagging, sensational. The sales team got in touch a long time ago and has stayed in touch. And on and on.
But no, I never knew I would shine. I don’t think of myself as a diamond or a star. I never think in those terms. I just keep writing my heart out. And when you are collaborating with a house like Philomel, when you are given room, when your questions are answered, when you are given a chance, there are possibilities.
I try to keep my head down, to keep working or reading, or thinking or being—and not to dwell over responses to a book that cannot now be changed in any fashion (unless I go all trickworthy during the paperback process, and I would never do that). And sometimes people like a book and sometimes people don't, and you just have to go with the flow. You have to keep flowing.
This morning, however, my friend Alyson Hagy wrote me an email that I will always treasure. She shares my love of place, of depth, of landscape, of birds, and when she talks I listen, I learn. And this afternoon, I stopped again—was stopped—by Meghan Miller of Forever Young Adult (she calls herself an erstwhile librarian; I can't believe there's anything erstwhile about her). She has put together a review of
Small Damages reviews here; she's even cast my movie; she's brought me Emma Stone; she's set the table. I cannot let this pass. I cannot let it go. I don't want to be tedious or all about me, but:
This is remarkable. I have to thank her.
The review, titled "I've Waited Years For A Book Like This" can be found in its entirety
here.
Some of the (many) words that made me smile here. Note to Meghan: Kenzie will be your BFF anytime.
Kenzie is marvelous. She's magnificent. She has both an artist's perception of the world and a teenager's self-absorbed blindness; Kenzie's not mean or selfish, but it takes time for her to see past her own (admittedly huge) concerns and sympathize with others. But she's funny and kind, and she really does care, and I'd love to carefully wrap my arm around her and help her heal, because I think she's definite BFF material.
I'm going to be downright honest with you. Launching a book prickles me over. I hail from failed Girl Scout Cookies sales roots, after all. I ripple with panic (more than a pebble's toss worth) every time I have to price a corporate project (and that's my business, my family's livelihood). I send announcement e-mails out about my books in full-force cringe. I am graciously invited into bookstores and then apologize to any friend who might want to come.
I'm sure you're busy, I'll say.
Don't feel you have to come.It's an itchy enterprise, this book thing. I
want my books to succeed, and I especially want
Small Damages to succeed because I am working with such exceptional people at Philomel and I cannot let them down. I worry about unhappy reviews and reviewers for their sake. I worry about sales because people I love have believed in me, and I want to deliver for them.
Still, I struggle with self-promotion. I struggle to find balance. I want to look out, beyond myself— reporting on the books of others (only the books I love, obviously, for I am not quite sure what any blogger gains from reporting on books that were not loved), reflecting on the world at large, honoring neighbors, children, family, friends. I want to connect in a very real way with people. I want to generate positivity against the dark clouds of 2012—the heat of summer, the terror in a theater, the buried secrets of a certain university and an assistant football coach, the final ebbing away of loved ones.
Yesterday, as you know from the identical picture in the previous-to-this-one post, I launched
Small Damages at Chester County Book and Music Company, a store that brought us all so much for three full decades but is now on a month-to-month lease. It is the Kindle, not the economy in general, that some believe hurt this gigantic independent. The Kindle, a machine. Bookstores are about community. Machines most often aren't. We writers and readers are losing, in CCBM, a glowing, active hearth, and we will be so much the poorer for this.
Yesterday was a Saturday in mid-summer. I am who I am, no actual rock star (despite my pumpkin-dashed-with-paprika pants). Nonetheless, A.S. King drove all the way from where she lives (I call it a castle, she swears that it isn't) and K.M. Walton flew in from down the road (on fairy wings, with sparkle), and Joanne Fritz sat among us, and we talked, until a teen reader and her mom and, then, two friends joined in. Maybe some people would want to be surrounded by crowds at a book launch. I could not have been happier than this—the intimacy of the conversation, the honest exchange, the talk that went on and on until Amy and Kate and I looked at our respective time-announcing gadgets and realized that dinner in our households was about to begin. Amy, Kate, and I are writers first. We live the writing life. We had stories to tell, no bravada behind which to hide, no desire to be anything but ourselves. We loved our teen reader and her mom for encouraging a life with books. We loved Joanne and CCBM for making room for us there. We loved the two best friends who went home armed with their own piles of books. We loved spending time not wanting to be, but being.
I signed my very first copy of
Small Damages to a teen reader named Julia. I laughed until I ached with Kate and Amy. I went home counting my luck for being in this odd but beautiful business of publishing.
Thanks to Joanne Fritz for being our hostess with the mostest this afternoon at your beautiful, please-tell-us-it-will-be there-forever store. Where else can we sit like we did and laugh long and hard, long after we stopped talking about
Small Damages? And how lucky am I that A.S. King (we'll call her Amy) and K.M. Walton (we'll call her Kate) spent this afternoon with me?
Right answer: Extremely lucky.
And what about Julia—our teen reader? She's something else.
I wore orange pants, just so none of us could forget this afternoon. I know that I never will.
By:
Beth Kephart ,
on 7/19/2012
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The most important thing about this day is that it marks my son's twenty-third birthday. He came into the world after thirty-six hours of labor. He had a full head of thick, black hair. He reached for my husband's finger and squeezed it tight. The next day, we drove him to my mother's house in a beat-up Ford Mustang—his hat still on despite the July heat.
There's no accounting for a mother's love. There's no math that will contain it. The baby became a boy became a kid became a man—so bright, so inventive, so funny, so adventuresome, so thoughtful, and with a raft of terrific friends, and with a future that seems (thanks to some recent interviews) so close and within reach, and with a talent for loving.
That boy traveled to Spain with me and my husband, several times, to visit my brother-in-law. We together met characters like an old man named Luis, and like a count who raised Spain's prized fighting bulls. We traveled out to a broad cortijo, watched the gypsies dance, sat front row at flamenco shows. We ate paella at midnight on the streets, tapas in tiny bars. We went in and out of bull rings and up cathedral towers and in between the narrow spaces of Seville. We watched the nuns flutter by. We saw children playing on rooftops. And when I started to write a novel with all of this as the backdrop, this son of mine listened to me read out loud—this passage or that at the kitchen table. He steered the ship with his spare comments and would not let me give up in the face of grave disappointments. He said, "Believe in yourself."
I don't think there would be a
Small Damages without this guy, and that brings us to birthday number two.
Small Damages, a book that has always been dedicated to my son, is being launched today. That it is a book, that it has come this far, is all thanks to the extremely extraordinary Tamra Tuller, Michael Green, Jessica Shoffel, and Jill Santopolo of Philomel. That it has been welcomed into this world is all thanks to the generosity of readers and bloggers and reviewers and interviewers, whose goodness is unfathomable and restorative and redeeming and proof that maybe a girl can write and write and write and not be especially famous, but keep writing, and then have a moment in time like this one.
An unforgettable moment in time.
To all of you, and to my agent Amy Rennert, who has been there through all fourteen books, thick and thin (and so much thin), thank you.
Cake is now being served for all.
The icing is here, in these words from the great (truly great)
Pam van Hylckama of Bookalicious.org and in this kindness from the ever-kind and supportive
Serena Agusto-Cox.
From Pam:
It is not often that a book that makes you lose your breath. You read novel that makes you want t
Over on
Publishing Perspectives today, I'm asking a perhaps radical (and yes, of course, naive) question: What would happen if we stopped labeling books, YA or otherwise? It's a notion I've bandied about in my head for a while now—one that seems extraordinarily relevant as we consider the very notion of crossover books, classic books, and the role that labels have or have not played. From the essay:
Crossover books. Classic books. Aren’t they, at the very least, kissing cousins? And aren’t they also the books whose labels have been systematically sidestepped or blatantly ignored, whose labels, in the end, made no perceivable difference, save for the various honors and awards for which the books qualified? This conspicuous refusal to stay within the reading lines has represented, I think we can all agree, excellent good news for the books themselves, and excellent good news for readers.
What, then, does all this suggest about a label’s utility? What, indeed, would happen if the “young adult” label suddenly (in fantastical, whimsical, utterly surreal fashion) vanished? Certainly the YA label is not “protecting” teens from scandalous reads (however readers choose to define scandalous these days); it’s not the equivalent, in other words, of a PG rating. And certainly the YA label doesn’t tell us much of anything about the story we’re about to encounter, or about its relative artistry. “YA” tells us only that a teen or teens is involved. But so what, really, because at the end of the day, that’s the case for many an adult novel, too.
The whole can be found
here.
In the meantime, while I was posting this, I received word that
Kirkus named Small Damages the recommended teen book of the week.My head happily spins.
The heat was aggressive today. It knocked the civility out of drivers. It was implicated in the four accidents I saw and drove the bugs into my ears. Soupy, swampy, angry, it would not rest until it had exploded (it was quite the sight, it really was) the bottle of Dr. Pepper I had carried with me to the car. Pssssshhhhh Bang Splat fiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz. Too bad they don't make interior windshield wipers.
Such sweet things happened, nonetheless. They may not seem related, but they are. My friend Heather's baby boy, Ryder, was born at 4:44 PM, a good omen of some sort, I'm sure. Ryder's going to be loved something fierce by all of us who love Heather, and by Heather herself, so full of love. Heather's been asking Ryder to come out and play for some time now, and forever now, he will.
All across the country, meanwhile, another mother, this one named Danielle, was tending to her two—taking care, listening, watching them tangle and grow. Danielle, too, is a very special woman, a person whose priorities in life (and gentleness, and dreams) have so much to teach. Danielle gives everything—to her family, to this book world, to people like me—and the next day she gets up, and somehow does it all again.
Today I was a recipient of Danielle's exceptional gifts. I was, and I don't know what to say.
When I say that I don't know what to say, I really mean that. I don't. Kindnesses like hers cannot be answered.
Simply, then, with gratitude, I share her words
here, which I found at just the right time of this tumultuous and yet still beautiful day.
I am sending my love to these two mothers right now. In a world this hot, in a summer this thick with heat, they teach us how to carry on with dignity and grace.
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Sounds like you've had a good day...that should make you smile. I hope you are feeling better today
the "Small Damages" sequel I hope to someday write....
What??? Happy Dance!